Fresh fish
sizzling on an open flame 
if by a slip of habit
it was them, instead of rabbit

Our turtles have become us
and our feet have gone roosting
our corals have all been gabled 
and our garbos gone to seed
but for just 55 million 
I could make all of this go away
and become a Brazilian.

You are not losing your looks 
you are gaining your face
once locked behind the gates 
of mascara'd indifference 
and metal plates.

Now I enter the summer of my 
corn fed youth 
no longer a spring chicken 
but still quite finger lickin'

the thing our fathers have taught us 
is to never bow down to another man's will
after the home leaving flips the switch 
no other men will ride us now
that would only make us their bitch

'We shall overcome'! 
This said through clenched teeth 
and checkered bubblegum 
fists which faint 
for too much restraint 
over the concrete that grows 
where the grasses ain't

I left my heart in San Francisco
but my ass is still in LA 
trying to explain to the traffic cops 
that speed is relative 
to how hard one rocks.

In school we were taught 
adjectives, verbs and adverbs 
but never reverb….
which was when I decided school sucked !
if I cannot study movement without echo 
then narcissus and his apologist 
repeat their lives in slow- mo

I once surged up out of the sea 
urged on by songs of sirens
and unrelenting will
the wind kisses sunlight
but their shadows haunt me still
this is too much pain (I feel)
to carry a load that chases back the moon
for whom, once in our mildew years
caused Luna's blush to swoon 
even giving her a head start
by quite a few paces, 
threw Spanish eyelashes at the races 
and spit sand back on the dunes
and even as midlife crisis
is splattered from the many barrels
of an angry Isis (always questioning the prices)
and collects sermons from the bile that rises
to reconnect his sword
otherwise, the lava contracts 
and men get bored.

I am thinking of writing a poem
in which the 'idealist' takes a bow 
right before he walks into the street
and gets hit by that reality truck